


A Time For Science

by TheRussianKat



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, drunk!science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 22:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2523437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRussianKat/pseuds/TheRussianKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Bobcatmoran as part of the Les Mis Trick or Treat! Our lovely Les Amis scientists may have had one too many when they decide to try a little experiement...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Time For Science

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bobcatmoran](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bobcatmoran/gifts).



It was too early for this, Courfeyrac thought as he trudged up the stairs to Enjolras’s apartment. It was 8:46am and he was already in a bad mood; he had got entirely too little sleep, it was raining and when he had woken up, he had been alone. He was not a happy Courfeyrac.

He knocked on the door, yawning and stamping his feet trying to shake out the cold which had seeped into his skin during the short walk from his own apartment.  
The door was opened gently, the person on the other side clearly conscious that it was still rather early to be slamming doors on a Saturday morning. So, not Enjolras then, his mind supplied as he stepped into the warmth of the apartment. 

His suspicions were confirmed when he turned and saw a very tired Grantaire staring back at him, the faintest of smiles playing at his lips. This quickly vanished though as his face contorted into a yawn. “Come on. The sooner this is over with, the sooner I can sleep,” the artist grumbled leading the way to the kitchen.

There were three people waiting for them in the kitchen, each of which had definitely seen better days. The first was Joly; slumped at the table an arm thrown over his head and the other was wrapped in a bulky tea towel.

Combeferre was beside him; glasses forgotten on the table and fingers curled in his hair as he held his head in his hands. Courfeyrac could practically see the headache thrumming in his boyfriends skull, but seeing the third person at the table stopped him approaching.

Enjorlas looked livid. His blonde hair had been scraped into a messy bun leaving the fresh blackeye on his face unhidden. His eyes had reached the stage Grantaire had nicknamed the ‘Apolloclypse’. Courfeyrac was more than slightly frightened. Then the blonde turned to them and smiled, no, he sneared “Take yours and don’t bring them back until they’re ready to re-build my bathroom.”

“What the hell happened?”

 

_____________________________Fourteen Hours Earlier_____________________________________

 

Combeferre was more than happy to sit alone with a book on the drizzly Sunday evening apartment-sitting for Enjolras and Grantaire. In fact he had already chosen his book; Colour Identification Guide to Catapillars of the British Isles, and had turned the heating above the sub-zero temperatures his friends seemed to enjoy and had managed to coerce their cat, Socci, into sitting with him.  
But then his phone rang.

Five hours, three cups of coffee and a snack break later found him sat with Joly on the floor trying desperately to make sense of the cornucopia of text books the medical student had managed to drag along with him. “Remind me why you didn’t do this last month when it was assigned?” Combeferre grumbled scanning over the few paragraphs Joly had managed to complete prior to that afternoon.

“I got distracted,” the med-student whined as he typed furiously with one hand whilst pulling one of the books closer with the other.

“Distracted?” Combeferre raised an eyebrow.

Shifting under the gaze Joly continued to type, before muttering “They lured me with sex.”

“Of course they did,” Ferre laughed “You know, considering the ‘distractions’ this is damn good,” he complimented, handing the pages back “How much more left?”

“I think,” Joly frowned at the screen for a moment, clicked twice the smiled “It’s done! It’s over, I’m free.” A relief washed over the young man’s face and a smile soon engulfed it “We should celebrate!”

“Celebrate?” Combeferre asked a smiling slowly forming on his own face, watching as the other man began digging through the cupboards only to emerge seconds later triumphant with a bottle of vodka and a blue liquid which the spectacled man assumed was also alcoholic.

“Celebrate.” And with that Joly began pouring the drinks.

 

___________________________Four Hours Later_______________________________________

 

“-and he has no idea. He still thinks s’me stray cat or s’mething stole it,” Combeferre slurred leaning heavily against Joly as he took another long drink.

Joly burst into another round of high pitched giggles, “So that’s why the bedroom window has a lock on it?”

“Exactly!? Enj is jus’ afraid they’re gonna come back!” Combeferre continued to laugh as he drained his glass. “I think it’s time for another,” he said as he tried to pull himself up from the floor.

“I quite concur old chap!” Joly agreed as he staggered to his feet, letting Combeferre use him to get to his own feet. “To the kitchen!” 

When the two inebriated men reached the kitchen the hole in their plan became apparent. “Ferre, there’s no more alc’hol.”

“S’gone?”

“Yeah, it s’all gone,” Joly whispered still staring at the empty bottle in the sink.

“No,” Combeferre whined collapsing into one of the kitchen chairs “That’s not fair.”

Joly neglected the chairs and instead let himself fall to the floor. “S’very inconsiderate,” the med-student grumbled “We should make our own.”

At that Combeferre sat up. “We could make our own.”

“No, all hope is lost. We’ll just dehydrate and die, you can have my turtles man. Just remember Angelo doesn’t like lettuce,” Joly rambled fiddling with the cupboard handles. Combeferre stumbled off his chair, ignoring his friends words he began rifling through the bookshelf. “Steve doesn’t mind lettuce and I think Miguel prefers ap’les,” Joly continued now with a box of cereal in his lap nibbling sporadically. 

“Yes!” Combeferre shouted, finally finding the right book. He ran across to Joly and pulled and the smaller man to his feet “I found it!” 

“But I hid it so well,” Joly whined.

“What? No, I found the book!” Combeferre said holding out the book.

Joly eyed him, swaying slightly where he stood “It appears to be in different words to mine. How does this work my friend?” taking the ‘Handleighing of lerrboek der likeurstokerij’ from Combeferre who had taken to pulling things from the cupboards.

“I speak some German and there’s pictures” Combeferre explained throwing various items on the table “Pictures can’t go wr’ng. Right?”

The med-student considered this, looking over the colander, yeast and whisk which had been thrown on the kitchen table. “Right!”

 

________________________________Two Hours Later__________________________________

 

“You were right,” Joly said as Combeferre slowly poured the water into the cooler bottle over the yeast and sugar “The lighting is much better in the bathroom.”  
Combeferre carefully poured the last of the water and then turned back to Joly “Of course I’m right, I’m a scientist.”

“Did you just pronounce the ‘c’ in science?” Joly laughed. The other man just waved him off as he lit the camping stove they had set rather haphazardly beneath the tripod holding the cooler bottle. 

They sat in silence, sharing the last of the bottle of un-identified blue alcohol as the yeast mixture began to bubble and boil. It wasn’t until Joly slurped the final drops from the bottle that either of them broke the silence. “So, how long until we get to try our alc’hol?” he asked the words stumbling over themselves as they fell from his mouth.

Combeferre considered the question, studying the now visibly shaking container bubbling in the bath tub. “Either two hours or two days, I’m not sure. S’one of the pages got a bit burnt. Could be two eyes, my German’s a bit rusty.”

“I don’t wanna sacr’fice my eyes for alc’hol Ferre,” Joly whined.

A yawn escaped Combeferre as he watched his friend curl into himself “Le’s just go to bed, I’m tired,” he began to maneuver himself into a standing position, leaning heavily on the soon to be demolished basin   
“Alc’hol can wait, let’s go to bed?”

As Joly started to answer a noise from the hallway halted him. Turning wide eyed at Combeferre he pulled the other man back to the floor “S’intruders Ferre!” Receiving no response from his friend other than a gaping mouth and small hiccup; Joly shot to his feet once more and crept to the bathroom door and pressed his ear against it. “I can hear them! What do we do?”

Having come slightly to his admittedly inebriated senses Combeferre staggered over to his friend “We phone the police. Where’s your phone?”

“Kitchen I think,” Joly began opening the door slowly “We’ll just have to be quiet,” he whispered slowly getting to his knees, pulling his sweater sleeve over his hands and then crawling out of the bathroom motioning for Combeferre to follow.

They crawled through the dark hallway, conscious of the light and voices, emanating from the living room as they made their steady progress. When they reached the kitchen Joly held his hand to Combeferre motioning for him to stay in the hallway whilst he scouted ahead.

He remained on the floor as Joly began to clatter about in the kitchen. It was then that the living room door opened. He scrambled to his feet and pushed his way into the kitchen grabbing onto Joly who was still trying to unlock his phone. “They’re coming!” he hissed, causing the smaller man to drop the previously mentioned phone.

“Grab something,” Joly commanded, looking around the kitchen for something he himself could use as a weapon “We’ll fend them off, defend the flat and be heroes!”

It was then that a few things happened at the same time. 

Combeferre grabbed the closest item which happened to be a broom and wielded it as though it were a weapon of a substantially higher caliber. The door opened allowing two figures, a small blonde and a bulky brunette, to enter the kitchen. Assuming the new arrivals to be the intruders Joly threw himself at the blonde with a viscous war cry, limbs flying as he hit his target. Then a loud explosion resounded throughout the small apartment making the walls shake and alarms shriek in protest.

Joly’s mind slowly began ticking again as the alarm continued to trill through the air, but the alarm wasn’t loud enough to drown out the angry shouts of his victim upon which he was laying.

“Joly, if you do not get off me right now I swear you won’t be able to walk let alone have children by the time I am done with you,” Enjolras growled pushing against the medical student who was staring at him with something akin to awe.

“You’re Enjolras.” Joly squeaked standing up and backing away from the fuming blonde.

“I am Enjolras,” the blonde seethed as he picked himself up from the ground “and you have ten seconds to explain what the hell is going on before I remove your favourite appendage.”

“No no no,” Grantaire quickly pulled Enjolras to him by wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist “No removing anything. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.” 

A few moments later the alarm silenced. The four men stared at each other. Joly was backed against the counter his eyes trained on Enjolras who was still glaring daggers at him from the prison of Grantaires arms. Grantaire was looking slightly bemused but mostly exhausted as he held onto the furious Enjolras, and Combeferre remained in his corner still branding his broom.

 

________________________________Present Time_________________________________

 

Courfeyrac looked over the bathroom. Enjolras hadn’t been exaggerating when he had called it a bombsite. The bath tub was in pieces as was the basin and the mirror which had hung above only hours before was in shards on the floor. All of this was covered in a thin film of yellowish slime which, though mostly dried, had left the bathroom smelling of old bread and cheap beer.

“Wow,” he gave a low whistle overlooking the carnage “I never thought Ferre and Joly would do something like this. I mean Bahorel and Bossuet sure, but the smart ones?”

“I know. Enjolras will get over it though,” Grantaire said clapping Courfeyrac on the back “May take a few weeks, and a new bathroom, but this time next year we’ll look back on this and laugh.”

It was then that Enjolras came stomping down the hallway, looking about as happy as he had at Courfeyrac’s arrival. “Right, Musichetta just arrived for Joly. If you take Ferre now I may not kill him with my own bare hands,” he said, his voice calmer than his demeanor “and you’re both still welcome on Thursday. But if you’re not prepared to rebuild a bathroom I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

With that said Courfeyrac made his goodbyes and dragged a thoroughly hungover Combeferre with him. As they made their way down the stairs and out of the building Courfeyrac turned to his boyfriend “So, does this mean I’m the responsible one now?”

Combeferre just kept walking.


End file.
